


to the altar

by melonbug



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Blowjobs, Drunken Confessions, Drunkenness, Loss of Virginity, M/M, mentions of risky sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-14 22:46:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11793063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melonbug/pseuds/melonbug
Summary: Keith wants it rough, in the flavors that he likes best: dominating and sadistic and hurty, the whole nine yards.Shiro, though, is a blushing virgin.It's going to be a work in progress.





	to the altar

**Author's Note:**

> shout out to my beta~ [spookyknight](http://archiveofourown.org/users/spookyknight/pseuds/spookyknight)
> 
> More tags are to come.

Shiro was polite when Keith showed up at his door at two am, smelling of alcohol and mistakes. Shiro let him in without a word and pretended not to notice the bruises around his neck, how crumpled his uniform was, the dirty stains at the knees. It was a conversation that would come in the morning, Keith knew.

Keith also knew that Shiro didn’t even know the half of it. And Keith didn’t know if that was better or worse. What Shiro didn’t know, Keith wouldn’t have to hear about later; What Shiro did know helped him fill in the blanks of what he didn’t know. There were a lot of blanks to be filled and a lot of things that they could be filled with.

Keith had spent the evening filling his blanks with more things than he should have.

Shiro pressed a cool glass of water into his hands when Keith had finished throwing up. The tangy taste of cock was now drowned out with the taste of vomit, and Keith gulped down the water, trying and failing to rid his mouth of the acidic taste. He was still on the tail end of drunk, and Shiro sat on the floor of the bathroom with him while he waited it out. He had far more patience than Keith deserved.

“You going to be okay?” Shiro asked. Keith groaned against the toilet seat where he’d decided to park his face.

“Prob’bly,” he managed. He took a deep breath to calm the rush of queasiness that threatened to spill out when he spoke.

Shiro sighed and Keith kept his eyes fixed on the toilet paper roll opposite his head. “I told you not to go to that party,” Shiro said at last. It didn’t really sound like beratement so much as utter disappointment. Keith contemplated bashing his brains out on the porcelain seat.

“You’re s’pposed to  _ wait _ ,” he said. The urge to vomit again didn’t suddenly come back, so Keith continued. “Save it until  _ morning _ , Shiro.” He rolled his head up and off the seat and met Shiro’s eyes. He looked tired. Keith couldn’t remember if he’d already been awake when he’d banged on his door. “Please,” he added.

Shiro didn’t say anything. He climbed to his feet and Keith followed him with his eyes. “Do you think you can stand?”

Keith nodded and the world spun. He took a ragged breath and closed his eyes.

“Do you think you can stand and  _ not _ throw up again?”

“Yeah,” he croaked. “I think so.”

Shiro offered him a hand and Keith took it and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. He even managed not to stumble too much and he only wavered a little where he planted his feet.

Shiro stepped out and his voice carried in from the other room. Keith could barely hear him over the loud pounding in his ears. “—the bed, okay? Just don’t throw up in it, Keith.”

Keith followed after him, nodding.

“I’m serious, I just changed the sheets this morning.” Shiro gestured to the bed and Keith dropped down to it. Slowly, the dizziness from standing subsided.

Keith watched him busy himself about the room, digging through a drawer on the far wall where he knew Shiro kept his clothes, folded and pressed like the good Garrison boy he was. Even the bed Keith was on had been made with military precision, the corners folded tight. Shiro, the golden boy. The shining prodigy of the Garrison who could do no wrong.

Keith was the prodigy everyone whispered about when they thought he wasn’t listening. He didn’t really care what anyone thought of him, though. He only really cared what Shiro thought about him, and he knew Shiro had heard the stories and the rumors and the trash talking.

Shiro stepped over and pressed a clean change of clothes into his hands, regarding him with a tired, disappointed look.

That’s what Shiro thought of him. He thought Keith was a disappointment.

He avoided meeting Shiro’s gaze and instead yanked at the belt to his uniform. It was already loose, but he’d had the decency to at least put it back on before he’d finally left the party. He tossed it aside and made to fumble with the zipper of the tunic. He got the zip stuck twice before Shiro finally sighed and stepped over to help him.

Shiro wrinkled his nose. “You smell like sex,” he said, uncatching the zipper. Keith dragged it down the rest of the way and shrugged out of the top.

“Was just  _ having  _ sex,” he retorted. And it had been great, but Shiro was a huge stick in the mud so Keith didn’t elaborate. The tunic came off with ease and he stood to start on his pants.

Shiro caught his wrist and stopped him. Keith looked up, startled. “I wish you would just  _ talk _ to me, Keith,” he said and Keith followed his gaze and realized Shiro’s eyes were tracing the purpling swell of a bruise that was encircling his wrist. He swiped a thumb over it and Keith made sure not to so much as flinch.

He yanked his hand away and snatched up the clean shirt. It smelled like Shiro and the warmth that settled into his stomach when he was  _ around _ Shiro. That feeling was rapidly disappearing with the way Shiro was treating him. “You act like it’s such a  _ tragedy  _ that I like to enjoy myself, Shiro.”

Shiro pressed his mouth into a tight line and Keith pulled on the t-shirt before he could finish raking his eyes across the rest of the scratches and bruises that littered his torso. He didn’t say anything else and Keith was able to finish changing in peace.

 

Keith woke the next morning to the smell of coffee and Shiro was waiting with a mug as he dragged himself upright, groaning. His head hurt and his body hurt, only his body hurt in the good way and his head hurt in the  _ oh god please let me die _ kinda way. He squeezed his eyes closed and took a long drink from the mug.

Shitty coffee made in Shiro’s shitty coffee pot. It did jackall for his head.

When Keith finally opened his eyes again, blinking blearily in the bright light, Shiro was seated at his desk, arm propped up on the top. And he was watching him. His look from the night before was now more judgemental than disappointed. Keith had that going for him, at least.

“Well,” Shiro began. “It’s morning now.”

Keith’s stomach dropped and he busied himself with staring down at the watery surface of the coffee. Shiro hadn’t even bothered to put sugar in it for him. “I didn’t throw up in your bed,” Keith finally said, when Shiro didn’t speak again. “So there’s that, at least. Right?”

Shiro sighed and Keith pretended it didn’t bother him. “I’m just worried about you, is all.”

Keith snorted. “I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself.”

“Is that why you showed up drunk at my door last night?” He paused, likely for effect. “ _ Again _ ?” Keith could never say Shiro didn’t have a penchant for the dramatic.

Keith shrugged and took another swig of the coffee. He made a face but swallowed it down anyway. “It’s only happened  _ twice _ , Shiro.”

Shiro made a soft noise and Keith looked over at him. He met his eyes and Keith shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. “Why are you covered in bruises?” When Keith didn’t immediately speak, Shiro continued. “There are healthier ways to—”

“I like it,” Keith interrupted.

Shiro looked startled. “What?”

Keith cleared his throat. His mouth still tasted of vomit, now with the lovely flavor notes of morning breath and oversteeped coffee. “I  _ like _ it,” Keith said again. “The bruises, the whole—” He moved the mug from one hand to another so that he could better gesture at himself. His mess of hurt was hidden to Shiro, now, but the point came across.

Shiro pinched his brow in confusion. “I don’t—”

Keith sighed. “The  _ sex _ , Shiro,” he clarified. “I like it like this. Rough, hurty, the whole shebang.” Shiro stared at him. “ _ God _ , Shiro, you cannot possibly be this—” He threw back the covers and dragged himself from the bed, abandoning his coffee on the night stand. He tried his hardest not to blush beneath Shiro’s stare.

“I understand what you meant, Keith.” Shiro sounded as exasperated as Keith felt. “I just—I don’t necessarily approve of the way you’re going about—” He gestured to Keith in lieu of finishing his sentence.

Keith cursed that he cared so much about what Shiro thought of him. “I’m being  _ careful _ ,” he muttered. He bent over and gathered up his abandoned clothes from the night before. They were a crumpled mess and he debated whether or not he should change back into them before heading back to his dorm room.

“Keith.”

“ _ What?” _ He looked up, scowling, done with the conversation and Shiro’s judgement. He wracked his hungover brain, trying to remember why he’d even shown up to Shiro’s room in the first place. Keith told himself it was because his roommate was an asshole who was likely to rat him out for being out past curfew and being so drunk, and not at all because every fiber of his being wanted to see Shiro.

Maybe it was because the closest thing he ever got to aftercare to his violent sexscapades was Shiro tucked next to him on the bathroom floor while Keith spilled his drunken stomach into the toilet.

Shiro looked away quickly, before Keith could read the expression on his face. “Nevermind.”

 

It was earlier in the night this time, when Keith found himself at Shiro’s door again. The alcohol was heavy in his stomach, but he had had far less to drink.

He was still drunk.

Shiro sighed when he opened the door and Keith shrank beneath his gaze. “Keith—”

“I’m sorry,” Keith stuttered out, meeting Shiro’s eyes. “It’s just that—”

He didn’t finish and Shiro didn’t ask him to. He only stepped aside and let Keith in. The door whirred closed behind him. Keith tumbled down onto his bed.

“Don’t—”

Keith didn’t let Shiro finish. “Won’t throw up on your bed,” he muttered. “Don’t worry.” He took a deep breath. The covers smelled like Shiro and Keith curled his fingers into them.

Shiro’s footsteps drifted over and then Keith felt the bed dip next to him. He grinned and rolled until his head was in Shiro’s lap. Shiro went stiff and not in the way Keith would have preferred.

Keith looked up at him, still grinning. “Didn’t fuck anyone this time,” he told him. “No new bruises.” He raised his arm until his sleeve slid down. The bruise from the week prior was a faint green-yellow and the only thing present there. Shiro reached up and caught his arm a moment before his fingers could touch his face.

Keith pouted. Shiro didn’t say anything and he couldn’t read the expression on his face. Keith  _ hated _ it.

“I don’t like that you don’t like it,” Keith mumbled. He tried to reach up and touch Shiro’s face again and again he was denied. Shiro instead curled a hand into Keith’s hair. The man seemed content to just let him continue babbling. So he did, and his drunk tongue betrayed him. “I wish it were  _ you _ . I want it to be you hurting me and… and…  _ fucking _ me.”

Shiro’s hand in his hair went still. “Keith—” he began slowly.

“It  _ could _ be you.”

Shiro stood, dumping him unceremoniously from his lap. Keith stumbled to his feet and the world spun, the floor drifted round beneath his feet.

“Think I’m gonna puke,” he managed. He pressed a shaking hand to his mouth and Shiro caught his elbow, pulling him gently forward.

“ _ Bathroom _ , Keith. Come on.”

 

He woke the next morning before Shiro, the scent of coffee and the bright, blinding glare of the lights noticeably absent. Shiro was spread out on the floor by the bed, buried in a tangle of blankets, and Keith looked down at him, the night before crashing horribly back to him.

Fuck.

_ Fuck _ .

He nearly threw up in his desperate fumble from the bed, stomach still gross with the weight of the alcohol, head still heavy from the horrid bit of sleep he’d managed. Shiro shifted at the noise and Keith froze, tracing his path to the door. If he was careful he could probably make it out without waking him.

He snatched up his shoes and his wrinkled clothes and made it halfway to the door before he heard movement behind him. He sighed and gave up and turned to face the music. Maybe Shiro wouldn’t say anything. Maybe he had fallen and hit his head and didn’t remember. Maybe Keith would drop dead on the spot before Shiro could say anything.

Keith wouldn’t get so lucky in a million years.

Shiro sat up among the pile of blankets and for a long, terrifying moment they locked eyes over the silence hanging on the air. Keith swallowed and stood there stupidly, waiting. Something had to give, one of them had to break the silence. Keith was hell set that it wouldn’t be him.

Shiro opened his mouth and then closed it, hesitant. “We should, uhh.” He full-stopped, eyes wide and the faintest hint of a blush tickling the bridge of his nose. “We should talk.” Shiro licked his lips and Keith’s stomach just about launched itself out of his body. “About last night.”

“Okay,” Keith managed. “Okay, yeah. We can uhh, we can talk.”

They both fell into awkward silence again, both too hesitant to be the first to speak.

“Maybe later?” Keith said at last. “I can come back.” He took a deep breath. Every part of him wanted to bolt from the room and pretend none of the night before had happened, that he hadn’t drunkenly told Shiro he wanted to fuck him. “Later,” he amended. “I can come back later.”

Shiro nodded slowly. “Okay.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Keith fled.

 

He could leave the Garrison. Drop out, ride out into the desert. Then he’d never, ever have to face Shiro and the drunken confession he hadn’t even been able to say to himself when sober.

_ Fuck _ .

His shower was lukewarm and miserable, the chilly water cascading down across bruises and scabs and the stinging swell of a whiplash still healing from a few days prior. He shuddered. Shiro had seen some of it, could draw his own assumptions, but it was a different thing altogether to  _ talk _ to Shiro about it.

Shiro didn’t know the  _ half _ of it. He wasn’t certain he wanted Shiro to know even a quarter of it.

So Keith put it off. Later had a very fine, vague definition. He could show up to his room three weeks from now and call it  _ later _ . 

But Shiro wasn’t going to have that.

**Hey** . The text came barely three hours after he’d left Shiro’s room. Keith stared down at it, chewing at his lip.  **You want to talk now?**

 

Keith was at Shiro’s door less than two minutes later and he stood there for five minutes more, shifting his weight back and forth from foot to foot, trying to work up the nerve to knock.

Shiro answered barely a moment after Keith’s arm fell back to his side. He looked relatively calm, relatively less pale and clammy and gross than Keith knew he himself looked. Shiro had been up with him late, taking care of him, but he wasn’t hungover, only tired, judging by the circles beneath his eyes.

Keith dragged himself inside and onto Shiro’s bed, making himself at home as he always did. He was a near constant presence in Shiro’s space, drunk or sober. Shiro hesitated and then dropped down on the far side of the bed.

“Where do you want to start?” Keith asked him. He refused to meet Shiro’s eyes and settled his gaze on the coarse fabric of the blanket beneath him. He raked his knuckles across it, trying to quell his growing agitation at Shiro’s unnerving patience. “The part where I said I wanted you to hurt me or the part where I said I wanted you to fuck me?”

He looked up and started. Shiro’s face was a bright shade of crimson—Not quite what he had expected.

“Maybe the part where you, uhh, said you wanted to—” Shiro cleared his throat.  “Where you said you wanted  _ me _ to, uhh, f-f—”

Keith finished the sentence before Shiro could, because it was becoming increasingly obvious that Shiro might not ever get to it. “Fuck me,” Keith said. “And I do, yeah.  _ Want _ that.”

Shiro stared at him, blushing hard. Keith wanted to die.

“Okay,” Shiro said, voice cracking. He sounded like he would choke on his own tongue if he said anything more. His face was still fifty shades of pink.

“Okay?” Keith echoed, eyes wide.

Shiro nodded slowly and licked his lips. “I—Yeah.  _ Yeah _ , we can, uhh, do that.”

Keith looked at him, dumbfounded. He shifted up onto his knees and settled there, that much closer to Shiro than he had been before. “Really?”

Shiro looked as if he were in a daze. “Yeah,” he said again. “Yeah, really, we can, umm—” He drew in a ragged breath and jerked his gaze away from Keith. “I’d prefer if we not the, uhh, the second part. Not yet, I just don’t know—”

Keith nodded quickly.

“And Keith?” Keith jerked his head up so that they locked eyes once more. “I’ve never, uhh—”

His eyes went wide. “You’re a virgin,” he blurted out before he could stop himself.

Shiro looked away quickly, blushing.

Fuck.

“And you still—You definitely, definitely want to. With me?”

“ _ Yes _ .”

Keith stood before he could talk himself out of it, pulling his jacket off. Shiro looked alarmed, eyes going wide. “Now?” he asked.

Keith shrugged, stepping over to him. He dropped a knee onto the bed and leaned into Shiro’s personal space, moving carefully to gauge his reaction. It wasn’t a bad one. “Now’s as good a time as any, right? Is that okay?”

Shiro gulped. “Yeah.” That was all Keith needed. He curled a hand around his shoulder and pulled him forward, pressing their lips together.

Keith kept it chaste for barely a moment before climbing forward and settling himself into Shiro’s lap, pressing his mouth open with a tongue. Shiro made a pleasant noise in the back of his throat and allowed it.

It took a concerted effort on Keith’s part to keep it slow.

Shiro dropped his hands onto his hips and Keith rolled them against him, eliciting a gasp from Shiro. He swallowed the noise greedily and repeated the motion, making sure to press his cock against Shiro’s own growing hardness.

It was enough to make the man break the kiss entirely, which was a shame because the noise he made this time was delicious. Dilated pupils met dilated pupils and their heavy breaths mingled in the seconds it took for Keith to dive back in.

His own patience was quickly fading and moving slow was fast going out the window. Keith tugged at the hem of Shiro’s t-shirt and they broke away long enough for Keith to make it disappear. “Shiro,” Keith managed between breathless kissing. “If you need me to slow down—” Shiro shook his head and maybe he read between the lines of what Keith wanted, because just like that the mood shifted, the dynamic changed.

Shiro ground up into Keith, tightening his hold on Keith’s hips, urging him to move faster. Keith obliged without a second thought, curling a hand around the back of Shiro’s neck to press him harder into the kiss. For all that Shiro was a virgin, he was taking the small hints, slowly taking charge, the way Keith liked it.

“ _ Good _ ,” Keith hissed, breaking the messy kiss, licking his lips of Shiro’s taste: mint, shitty coffee, the too-sweet taste of the sugar used to sweeten said shitty coffee. “G _ ood _ .” He was panting, heart racing and cock twitching just at the thought of the things Shiro could do to him. Would do to him. Would do to him  _ eventually _ .

Keith ran his hands down the hard planes of Shiro’s chest, making an appreciative noise. He’d seen Shiro in various states of undress before, a byproduct of practically sharing Shiro’s room with him, but this was different. Shiro was all hard muscle and bulk and  _ strength _ .

“Shiro,” Keith said suddenly, voice ragged. “When you fuck me, I want you to fuck me  _ hard _ .” He shuddered at the thought. “Okay?  _ Please _ ?”

Shiro let out a pained, needy noise and buried his face against Keith’s neck.

“Can you do that?” Keith asked, moving so that their cocks pressed firm together through their pants. Keith let out a desperate sound at the feel of the rough fabric dragging across the head. “ _ Please _ , Shiro. I  _ need _ you to do that.”

Shiro nodded against him. “If you want that, yeah.” His hot breath tickled against Keith’s throat and he moaned softly, cocking his head, baring his neck to him further. Shiro pressed a hot kiss there.

Keith shook his head. “No,” he grit out. “ _ Bite _ me.”

Shiro stilled beneath him and for a horrifying moment Keith thought he had gone too far, had pushed things too quickly. Then Shiro’s breath ghosted against his neck again and, carefully, teeth raked across the soft skin there, testing the give of the flesh.

“I can take it,” Keith said. “I promise, just—” He broke off with a cry as Shiro finally did as was begged of him, teeth pressing hard into his skin. “ _ Fuck _ .” Shiro bit down again, harder. Keith decided he was one hundred percent done going slow.

He pulled away, leaving Shiro clearly startled, and pulled his own shirt off and over his head. He dropped his hands down to fumble with the fly of his pants, but Shiro stopped him before he could even make it to the zipper.

Keith looked up just as Shiro dragged a calloused finger across a rough line of red that ran across part of his chest, just shy of his left nipple. Keith shuddered at the touch. “Rope burn,” Keith supplied at Shiro’s questioning look. “Few days old.” He reached his own hand up and dug the blunt edge of his thumbnail into the puckered flesh there, letting out a small hiss.

“You like that,” Shiro murmured, carefully mimicking the motion.

“Yeah,” Keith said. “We can talk about that later. Yeah?”

Shiro nodded and the judgement Keith had been so worried about was absent when he finally met his eyes. They were curious, instead, and Keith felt his face heat up and his heart race faster.

He pulled himself away and to his feet. Shiro followed, dragging him back into a bruising kiss before too much space could come between him. He was a quick learner, falling into the type of kissing Keith liked. Rough, hungry, messy. He tangled a hand into Keith’s hair and pulled the locks there tight into his fist. Keith cried out into the kiss, made sure to make it sound as encouraging as possible.

For all he’d been worried about scaring Shiro away with his lust for pain, Shiro was testing it out all on his own. He nipped and bit his way through the kissing, listening for what made Keith make the best noises, and then repeating it until Keith thought his knees would give out.

Keith had to end it eventually, because kissing alone wouldn’t sate him and his cock was still a too-hard presence pressing angrily at the front of his pants. Shiro beat him there, palming his cock through his jeans for a moment before helping him to work the pants off. And because it wasn’t fair for only Keith to be half naked naked, he then helped Shiro out of  _ his _ pants, dropping to his knees as he pulled them down and settling the fabric about his ankles.

“Have you ever had your dick sucked?” Keith asked, curling his fingers around the shaft, stroking it through Shiro’s boxers. Shiro choked on a breath and Keith looked up to see he’d squeezed his eyes closed.

“Once,” he said. His throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly.

Keith grinned and pressed a kiss to the head, inhaling the scent, enjoying the way it throbbed beneath his lips. Shiro’s cock was heavy and thick and all Keith could think in that moment was what a shame it was he would be the first to properly enjoy it.

Or a privilege, depending on how one chose to think about it.

Keith freed it from it’s cotton confines and it throbbed at the sudden wash of cool air across it. He smiled and dragged a finger down the shaft, tracing the thick vein there. Shiro shuddered and sucked in a breath. A nervous hand reached down and found Keith’s head, fingers combing briefly through his hair.

Keith leaned into the touch. “You can pull my hair,” he told Shiro. He glanced up in time to see the man lick his lips. “I  _ want _ you to pull my hair.” Shiro tightened his grip, testing the hold, and Keith hissed.

Shiro understood it how Keith had intended. He tugged harder. “You like that?”

Keith answered him by finally wrapping his lips around Shiro’s cock and swallowing him down all the way to the hilt. The thick head of Shiro’s cock pressed against the back of his throat and Keith hummed around it.

Shiro’s thighs trembled and Keith pressed a hand to the firm muscle there, bracing himself as he moved. Then Shiro seemed to remember himself and tightened his fist in Keith’s hair, hard, and Keith saw stars.

He was practiced at blowjobs, had the process down to an artform, and, tongue pressed firm against Shiro’s cock as he moved, Keith decided he would never, ever get tired of giving them.

He found a comfortable rhythm, one that set Shiro swallowing down moans. And true to Keith’s request, he was rough with his hair, taking advantage of it’s length to find a proper handhold. He pulled with every swallow Keith made around his cock.

He’d grown it out for a reason.

And too quickly that hand went from pulling to tightening hard, as breathy moans turned into grunts, as grunts have way to the telltale pale of a coming orgasm.

He was a virgin, Keith reminded himself. Was on his second blowjob ever, gone from  _ whatever _ it was he had had before to Keith’s ‘god’s gift to blowjobs’ blowjob. He was bound to get there fast.

“Keith…” Shiro shakily grit out.

Keith pulled off with a firm press of his tongue, dragging it out, lingering briefly on the glans, dabbing his tongue fiercely into the slit. “Shiro,” he said, licking his lips. His tongue tasted of precome and the distinct musk of cock. “Do you think you can,” he full stopped, trying to think of the most polite way to word his request. “We can stop, for a bit. Uhh, do something else?”

He looked up and immediately he knew Shiro was battling embarrassment. The flush of his cheeks was something more than a result of the pleasure.

Keith grinned, throwing it off, letting it fall away so that Shiro wouldn’t linger on the feeling. He dragged himself to his feet and pressed against him, licking his lips again, as sultry as he could manage. “Can I kiss you again, would you be okay—”

Shiro answered with  _ tongue _ , catching Keith and locking their lips together. Keith quickly decided that Shiro had kissed a lot of people. He was hardly as chaste as would be expected for someone who was almost twenty and only on their second blowjob. Shiro moved, guiding him back, until his knees caught the bed and Keith tumbled down onto it.

The older man hesitated, looking him over, and then curled a firm grip around his ankle. Keith had small, slender legs, built lean by his nature. Shiro was stockier, with larger hands. They almost curled the whole way round his ankle and the squeeze pressed hard on the bone. Keith gasped and he was dragged forward. Shiro slotted their hips together like that, the bed at the perfect height to press his hard cock against Keith’s firm ass. Keith follow with his leg, slotting them, half bent, against Shiro’s sides.

“We can fuck like this?” Keith suggested. Suddenly all he wanted was Shiro’s thick cock stretching him open. “Do you have—” It occurred to him, to some exasperation, that in all likelihood Shiro wouldn’t have lube. Condoms, maybe, because it was never a bad idea to have condoms if the intent to  _ ever _ , maybe have sex was present.

Shiro surprised. “Yeah, I have—” He gestured vaguely. It didn’t really help their situation. Shiro didn’t move. “But can I—” He teased his bottom lip with his tongue. “Can I get you naked? I want to see you—”

He reached down and toyed at the hem of Keith’s boxers. “I’m flexible,” Keith responded.

“What?”

He moved, stretched up with his legs to hook ankles around Shiro’s shoulders. It wasn’t too difficult to hoist his underwear up with a motion that pressed a wiggle against Shiro’s cock.

“ _ Oh _ .”

Keith smirked.

“That’s—” Shiro’s throat bobbed with the possibilities. Keith had already lived most of them. But not with Shiro.

He dropped his eyes to Keith’s cock and Keith’s own eyes followed. His own was slender long, a good length, but nothing compared to Shiro’s. Shiro eyed it like  _ candy _ , carefully reaching down to trace the curve of it with rough fingers.

Keith squeezed his eyes closed and lifted his hips up into it. Shiro took the initiative to grasp it and give it a long, slow stroke. It came to Keith that this was probably the first time he had handled someone else’s cock. He found he liked that.

“I want to suck you off,” Shiro decided at last.

The words went straight to his groin. “Yes.” He didn’t open his eyes but he could feel as Shiro shifted to his knees. ‘Yesyes _ yes _ .”

The first stroke of a tongue brought goosebumps, and Keith sighed out a soft noise. Shiro was nervous and Keith threw his legs over his shoulders and dragged him close. It was a tried and true cure to nervousness, apparently; Shiro enveloped him with his mouth.

There was something savage about blowjobs that Keith  _ loved _ . Wet and messy and a whole other level of  _ nasty _ . Shiro sucked at him like he needed it, clumsy, though, messier than what an expert might deliver. Warm, hesitant strokes with his tongue were interspersed with slurpy suction. And he was blessed with a weak gag reflex, because he pulled him deep in a way that would be more expected of someone as expert as Keith himself was.  _ Fuck _ .

He walked Shiro through it with the noises he made, rolling his hips up into it when Shiro pushed him deep, testing the limits of that beautiful gag reflex. Keith could die like this, approaching an orgasm from Shiro’s ‘expert’s guide to sucking off.’

He whined deep in his throat. “Good,” he gasped. “Good,  _ good _ .”

Shiro was good and with that goodness he brought Keith right up to the edge. And Shiro  _ knew _ from the telltale tremble oh Keith’s thighs where they draped over his shoulders.

He pulled away and Keith whined again, throwing an arm over his eyes.

“I can stop,” Shiro gasped out. “So you don’t—”  
“Please don’t. Don’t stop.”

He didn’t need to tell him twice. Shiro worked him over, took special care to give  _ special _ attention to his head, a favorite of Keith’s that Shiro had picked up on right away.

Keith’s orgasm came gentle and slow, and Shiro took every bit of it, worked it out of him and swallowed.

“I need you to fuck me now,” Keith blurted out between the grunts of his release, hips twitching into it. “Please, now, I need you to—”

Shiro moved fast, fumbled somewhere in his nightstand and procured lube and condoms. “Are you—” He shuddered, curling a hand against Keith’s ass, palming at the flesh there enough to expose his hole.

“Yes,” Keith ground out, impatient. He reached out, fumbled towards the hand wrapped around the lube. “I can, umm—”

Shiro shook his head and grinned. “I’ve got this part down, I think.”

Keith gave him a sly smile, only barely there in the wash of woozy that followed orgasms. “You do this a lot?” Shiro raised him up, tickling his hole with the press of a thumb.”On yourself?” Keith bit his lip, and a moment later it was replaced with cool slick and faint pressure.

He yielded to it after only a bit of teasing, Shiro pushing in with slick fingers, wasting no time in curling them up after the moment he first brushed Keith’s prostate. Keith urged him on with a babble of pleas, Shiro stretching him, adding another finger and stroking him deep inside.

“ _ Please _ .”

Shiro finally pressed the blunt head of his slick cock to his entrance and then hesitated. Keith wanted to scream but bit it back. “Shiro,” he said carefully. “If you’ve changed your mind or—or—” He let out a broken laugh. Shiro’s cock twitched against him.

He answered by sliding in, slow and careful. Keith shook his head. “I can  _ take it, _ Shiro.”

And he took it. Shiro pulled out only enough to gain the leverage he needed and then he slammed in hard. Keith made sure to reward him with the only noise he could manage to let out: a broken, pleased cry.

Shiro put his flexibility to good use, pushing him back until his knees almost touched his shoulders, leaning forward and baring Keith’s ass to him fully. And then he fucked him hard.

At some point Keith had already become hard again, and every powerful thrust into him made his cock twitch. He needed to touch himself but he refrained, curling and uncurling his hand.

“May I—” he gasped out at a thrust. “May I touch myself?” He didn’t care if Shiro had the capability of understanding the desperate need of his request. It didn’t matter. If Shiro didn’t answer then that was a default no and he wouldn’t do it.

Shiro faltered for only a moment. “Yes,” he said at last. “Yes, please, I want to see you.”

Keith caught his dick in his hand, shaking at the touch. Then Shiro caught his wrist and stopped him.

“Actually,” Shiro choked out, slowing just a bit. “Can I?”

He was good at it and Keith carefully didn’t imagine how much practice Shiro might have gained from his own alone time with his cock. He stroked Keith’s dick like he’d known it forever, grip just the right amount of firm, thumb flicking over the tip at the height of every movement. And Keith was  _ close _ .

A particularly hard thrust had Keith calling out Shiro’s name and Shiro breathed out his in return, a soft  _ Keith _ between a stutter of breath that told Keith Shiro was as close as he was.

“Fuck!” That was the tempo they set, Shiro thrusting in with a litany of Keith’s name, Keith returning everyone of them with his own swearing, until Shiro had to quiet him with a hand over his mouth.

Shiro didn’t have a roommate, but he shared a wall on both sides with suitemates and he was a Good Garrison Boy. Keith couldn’t find it in himself to care about Shiro’s reputation, though. But he could definitely get behind being silenced the way Shiro was silencing him. He showed his approval with a deep moan low in his throat, a leverage of his hips that deepened the angle.

It was enough for Shiro and he stroked Keith faster and Keith could tell he was trying to hold out for him. He didn’t need to. He came hard, crying out into the hand against his mouth, and over the sound of his heart beating loud in his ears he could vaguely hear Shiro’s grunt as he came as well.

Then they were two sweaty bodies collapsed next to each other, both breathing heavy. Shiro threw an arm over his eyes, chest rising and falling. Keith started to roll towards him only to draw to a stop.

The aftermath of sex was always something he drew away from, a byproduct of too much frantic sex in bathroom stalls and the backseat of cars. One night stands and nameless sex with no such things as the morning after. This was different, this was more different than anything he’d had in a long while.

He didn’t know how to handle it and he especially didn’t know how to feel in light of what had just happened and who it had happened with. Shiro, it was  _ Shiro _ .

Keith dragged himself to his feet and Shiro made a grab for him that he ignored in favor of snatching up his clothes.

“Wait,” Shiro managed, following him from the bed. “You don’t need to…” He stopped, adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed and processed what to say. “You don’t need to  _ leave _ .”

Keith shook his head, already tugging his pants on, wobbly but refusing Shiro’s attempt at steadying him. “I have, uhh, I have a lot of homework, Shiro. And I think, maybe we should—” He didn’t know how to  _ tell _ him, but suddenly all he wanted was space. So much space. He took a shaky breath. “I’m sorry, I just, I’ll see you tomorrow, maybe?”

Shiro’s eyes were suffocating when they met his and Keith yanked on his shirt in an attempt to block the gaze.

And it was funny that Keith had held off because somehow he’d known it would end in awkwardness. Of course he would be the one to make it awkward.

The door slid open with a touch and he moved through it. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he blurted out again and Shiro nodded carefully a moment before the door closed in Keith’s face.


End file.
